When Worlds Collide
by That Buggy Girl
Summary: TF:A. When Jetfire and Jetstorm take an interest in Sideswipe, you know crazy things are bound to happen!


**Notes:** Welcome to my thingy that drags Sunstreaker and Sideswipe into the land of TF:A. They're working as security at the lab/whatever that the Jets were created and trained in. There may or may not be more of this; I wouldn't hold your breath though.

-

The first time they laid optics on Sideswipe, he was dashing through the common room, laughing hysterically and nearly tripping over his own feet. He passed by so quickly his presence barely registered and a pink and yellow blur was crashing behind him, cursing so loudly it left their audios ringing.

Judging by the size of that blur's chin, it could be none other than Sentinel Prime.

Clearly, he'd been given a makeover. A messy, paint-y one, if the footprints on the floor were any indication. It wasn't difficult to guess that the large red mech had something to do with the new paintjob.

-

The second time they saw Sideswipe, he was fresh from the detention hall, scrubbing the blotchy pink footprints off the common room floor.

They both watched, curious and trying not to cycle the vile scent of the cleaning solution through their systems, wondering just who this red mech was and how in the Pit he managed to _paint_ Sentinel.

It was odd, because he was in trouble and being punished…But he was grinning like an idiot the whole time.

-

The third time, he was in the common room, lounging on the couch and drinking a cube of energon. He was bragging -loudly- to a few other 'Bots that they didn't know, going on and on about how he had managed to recolor the Prime.

They sat together on a chair designed for much larger Cybertronians than themselves, watching and trying not to look like they were watching. He was fascinating; the things he got away with were ridiculous! They had taken interest in him almost instantly, but didn't quite know how to approach them. They weren't all that skilled in the social arts, after all.

"You _can_ go talk to him, dig?" Jazz's smooth voice sounded nearby, sudden and startling, and they both jumped, nearly spilling their own energon.

"But Jazz, sir…" Jetfire began, face the picture of perfect innocence, though the glint in his optics left Jazz feeling slightly uneasy.

"We do not even know his designation, sir!" His brother finished for him, mirroring the expression and glancing over at the loud red mech on the couch and fidgeting a little.

"His name's Sideswipe." Jazz paused a moment, thoughtful. Well then…It appeared that the two of them were a bit shy. Though he knew they were painfully awkward around others, the ninja hadn't expected that. They usually tackled any challenge with gusto. "And man that 'Bot is a hummer when it comes to shenanigans, but I bet the two of you could cap him."

The twins frowned in unison, not quite understanding. Truthfully, they rarely understood a word that came out of Jazz's mouth. Most of the time, they just smiled an nodded. This time, they weren't quite sure what to do, so they did nothing.

-

The first time they encountered Sunstreaker, he attacked them.

Or, more accurately, he attacked Jetfire, leaping onto his back and slamming a fist into his cockpit.

It had all happened so fast. One minute, they were flying, practicing maneuvers in formation. The next, there was a bellow of "DECEPTICONS!" followed by a moment of confusion in which they tried to locate their enemy and something large and yellow landed on Jetfire, sending him careening into a near-crash.

He shrieked in surprise, twisting through the sky, the yellow mech clinging to him and pounding his canopy with brute force. Jetstorm hung frozen in the air for a second, then leapt into action, transforming midair and slamming bodily into their attacker. Jetfire was wailing, a dent in his wing preventing him from flying straight, slivers of glass raining down from his smashed cockpit.

And still, the yellow monster clung to him.

Jetstorm plowed forwards again, slamming a small fist into their attacker's face. In a fit of panic over their situation and his brother's plight, the blue jet completely forgot to activate his turbines, simply lashing out at the larger Transformer in a flurry of fists and feet and afterburners, clawing and kicking and biting to free his twin.

Sunstreaker snarled at him, swinging an arm and clipping him in the shoulder. Jetstorm yelped, spiraling towards the ground at an alarming speed, equilibrium thrown off with the impact of the larger mech's arm.

He landed in a smoking heap, upside down and horrified to see Jetfire crash a few feet away, Sunstreaker bouncing across the ground and skidding to a stop nearby.

Jetstorm dragged himself to his feet, limping over to his still-transformed twin. "Brother?" A blue hand reached out, then drew back hesitantly, "Are you functional?"

Jetfire's engines sputtered and there was an awful screech of metal as he transformed to his bipedal mode. The blue twin winced at their shared pain as Jetfire stood and he reached out, helping to steady his brother. Blearily, Jetfire peered at him, a small whisper of a grin crossing his face. "You look like slag."

"I am certain I am not looking as bad as you!" The reply was so easy and natural once Jetstorm knew his brother was in no immediate danger. Jetfire leaned against him, the wispy grin widening at the commonplace exchange, and together they glanced over at their downed opponent.

Sunstreaker merely twitched a little, groaning as the dust settled around him.

"What should we do?" Jetstorm sobered slightly, warily glancing at the downed warrior again, and pulled his brother a little closer.

"We should be doing nothing, brother." Jetfire replied, lifting a shaky hand to wave vaguely in the direction of the horizon and the two specks that in actuality were approaching vehicles. "Some one is already coming."

-

The first time they saw both of them together, it was in the med bay.

Jetstorm's injuries were minor; he had received a few dents that needed to be repaired. Mostly, they were a result of his spectacular crash landing, though one was from where Sunstreaker had struck him in the shoulder. Wheeljack cheerfully pounded the dents out, mildly scolding him for their foray outside without the proper permission, but Jetstorm didn't pay much attention. He was too busy fretting over his brother's condition.

Red Alert was busily repairing Jetfire, piecing his canopy back together with new panes of glass. She wasn't quite as jovial as Wheeljack, however; the scientist had been positively chipper as he patched up the blue jet. Red Alert, on the other hand, was Ilivid/I and giving their attacker the tongue lashing to end all tongue lashings.

"What were you thinking, Sunstreaker?" She scowled, nimble fingers far more gentle on Jetfire's cockpit than her demeanor suggested, "Why did you attack the twins? You Iknew/I about the project, you Iknew/I we had flyers on the premise and you Iknew/I the area in and around the lab is secure and safe from Decepticon attacks! Were you even thinking at all?"

Sunstreaker, who hadn't been attended to at all, was sitting on the berth, looking very much like a sorry heap of spare parts. Some of his paint was melted and blistered in areas courtesy of Jetfire's afterburners and he was sporting numerous scratches and dents and even a few bite marks. He _had_ been complaining -loudly- about his terrible, horrible, _life threatening_ injuries until a scathing look from the medic shut him up and he sat there meekly, waiting his turn.

It was around the time that Wheeljack started laughing - "Ratchet'd love to hear this, Red! He'd be real proud of you!" - that Sideswipe burst into the room, all nervous energy and worry over his brother.

"Sunny!" Sideswipe leapt at his brother, hugging him as if he hadn't seen him in years and practically strangling him in the process. Sunstreaker shoved at him, growling low and trying to push him away.

"Get offa me, you slaggin' moron!" He glared, the anger apparent in his tone not quite making it to his optics, "And don't call me that!" His foul mood was no match for his twin's enthusiasm, however, and Sideswipe merely ignored the orders, hopping up next to him and inspecting his wounds.

Jetstorm stared at them openly, mouth agape, reality skewing slightly at the sight of the funny, interesting red mech and the yellow monster who had tried to trash them in such close proximity. It wasn't until they were together that he realized…

He and Jetfire weren't the only set of twins in the Autobot's forces.

Never in a million years would Jetstorm have made the connection, were it not for this one single moment. But now, come to think of it, they did look a lot alike, with only minor variations to their helms and facial structures and -of course- their paint jobs. But unlike Jetfire and himself, they seemed to have vastly different personalities.

"…Brother?"

It took him a moment to realize Jetfire was talking to him. It seemed that the orange jet's repairs were complete; he was once again in robot mode and leaning in, peering in Jetstorm's face, hands planted on his brother's knees. For a moment, Jetstorm forgot about the other twins, a hand reaching up to brush lightly against his brother's face, glad the repairs went okay. "Still ugly as always." He smirked, teasing, and Jetfire's face lit up, and he scrabbled to sit next to him on the metal bench. They had already decided that they weren't leaving the med bay until they received an apology. It hadn't been discussed, but…They never needed to discuss anything.

A yelp of pain brought their attention back to the yellow menace who'd grounded them. Red Alert had apparently left Sunstreaker's repairs to the enthusiastic Wheeljack, who was hammering out his dents and chattering about improvements he could make to the warrior, if he was interested. While a brilliant engineer in his own right, Wheeljack was nowhere near as careful or considerate as the medic in his repairs and Sunstreaker seemed rather displeased with his version of tender love and care.

The jet twins smirked at one another. Served him right.

-

Sideswipe had never paid much attention to the little jets. Sure, he knew about the project - Every one at the base did. But he didn't care much about it one way or the other. While not nearly as self-centered as his brother, Sideswipe still managed to operate within his own grand world, a world full of pranks and excitement and brutal fighting. He was great at what he did and popular because of his good-natured pranks and sociability, but he didn't need to live outside the world he and his brother had created for themselves.

And because of that, he had failed to notice the existence of the smaller twins who watched him whenever they had the chance.

Now that he was looking at them, he couldn't believe these little bits of scrap from the energon refinery were actually advanced fighters programmed with Decepticon code. They were too small, their frames too fragile. There was no way they could be members of the Elite Guard!

But then again…They _had_ trashed Sunstreaker…

"What the slag happened, Sunny?" Sideswipe demanded, giving the jets another sidelong glance. They were sitting side by side, innocent and whispering intimately to one another. "Did those little glitches really slag you up this bad?"

Sunstreaker looked at him for a moment, then pressed a palm against his face, exasperated. There was no way Sideswipe would let this go without an explanation. "I thought they were Decepticons." He muttered into his hand. This was far more embarrassing than being chewed out by Red Alert; how was he supposed to admit to his brother that he was trashed by these two pipsqueaks?

The red mech took a step back, optics brightening, mouth falling open in surprise. "You didn't!" He couldn't believe it…He was usually the one doing block-headed things without thinking first.

"I did." Sunstreaker admitted miserably, "Tackled the orange one and tried to crash him. Blue one fragged me up."

It started as a snicker, which was bad enough in and of itself. Sideswipe knew better than to laugh; Sunstreaker with his ego damaged was a nasty thing. But he couldn't help it…There was no keeping the laugh in. It erupted in long peals, ringing through the med bay and causing the smaller twins to grin from audio to audio.

"It is true!" The blue one piped up, giggling a little. The jovial laughter was contagious, though neither of the flyers ever needed an excuse to laugh. "I fragged him good!"

"We thought _he_ was Decepticon!" His brother agreed, bobbing his head a little, "And ugly one at that." The smirk was evident in his voice, his grin wide and mischievous.

At that, Sunstreaker froze, any shame he felt over the situation voiding his frame as he leapt to his feet, charging at them and roaring about "how dare they call him ugly?!" They simply looked at one another, however, rising in matched movements and rushing back at him, knocking him to the floor and crawling on him.

Sideswipe cracked up all over again, practically rolling on the floor and howling with laughter.


End file.
